


Christmas Lights

by 101fender



Category: Dan Howell and Phil Lester - Fandom
Genre: Bi-Phil, Bottom Dan, Canon Gay Character, Christmas, Dan - Freeform, Dan Howell - Freeform, Dan/Phil - Freeform, Divorce, Gay Male Character, Gay Sex, Gay-Dan, M/M, Marriage, Phan - Freeform, Phanfiction, Phil Lester - Freeform, Phil/Dan, Smut, Top Phil, phanfics, pron with plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-05-14
Packaged: 2018-03-30 11:37:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3935374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/101fender/pseuds/101fender





	Christmas Lights

“When I pulled up in my driveway, Phil was putting up his Christmas lights, shirtless in the late-afternoon heat. Two of the houses across the way already had strings of lights decorating every shingle and window frame, their roofs adorned with illuminated reindeer, and fir wreaths hanging on their front doors, so I’d known it wouldn’t be long before Phil followed. In the three years I’d been living on this street, the displays had been getting ever bigger and more ostentatious, and Phil Lester always produced the biggest of the lot.  
Me, I’d never quite seen the point, maybe because it never really felt like Christmas here. Back in Berkshire, where I’d grown up, it got properly cold in the winter, and all my memories of Christmas involved snowball fights, carol concerts, and mugs of hot chocolate, topped with cream and marshmallows, drunk in front of a roaring fire. It felt like the right surroundings for snowmen and sleighs and footprints on the roof tiles that might, just might, have been left there by Father Christmas. Here in Southern California, where the temperature barely dipped below the high 60s, even in mid-December, it was a lot harder to get into a festive mood. As a result, my home always remained undecorated, apart from a small, artificial tree in one corner of my living room. Though he’d never said as much, I always got the impression Phil felt I was letting the rest of our little corner of the street down.  
I should have gone inside the house. I had groceries to stow, and a half-finished article about one of Hollywood’s hottest young directors on my PC that wasn’t going to write itself. Instead, I stood watching Phil, admiring the way the well-defined muscles in his back and shoulders flexed as he worked.  
Not that I didn’t get plenty of opportunities to do just that. The guy, a builder by trade, spent most of his free time remodelling his own home, the quality of his work a perfect advertisement for his professional services. And he seemed positively allergic to wearing anything on his upper torso. Many was the time when the words just weren’t flowing, and I’d step away from my desk to brew myself some coffee and sip it in the kitchen. As I did, I’d watch Phil hammering and sawing, his skin shining with sweat, and imagine how it would feel to lick those salty droplets from his skin. A delicious fantasy, and one I’d jerked myself off to on any number of occasions, but just that. Every impression I’d gained of Phil was that he was as straight as they came; once married, but now divorced, with women seemingly queuing up to become the next Mrs Lester.  
Phil climbed down the ladder propped against his front wall, stretched, and pushed his black fringe out of his eyes. He caught me looking in his direction, and wandered over. I hoped he had no idea of the kind of thoughts I’d been having about him.  
"Hey, Dan, looking for some tips on how a pro decorates his home?" The man’s self-confidence bordered on arrogance at times. It should have made him less attractive in my eyes, but it didn’t.  
"I would be, if I had any intention at all of decorating my own," I told him. I knew it wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but I continued, "I’m sorry, Phil, but I just don’t see the point in wasting all that time and money, just to treat the neighbor's to a free light show."  
"You’re a regular old Scrooge, you know that?" Phil sounded as though he was only half joking.  
"Hey, it’s not that I don’t like Christmas," I protested. "It’s just not so much fun when you spend it on your own, that’s all."  
When he looked at me, I couldn’t tell whether his expression was one of sympathy or pity. It suddenly occurred to me I didn’t actually know how Phil passed the holidays, or who with. I tended to shut myself in with a turkey dinner for one and some cheesy old film or other on cable; until now, I’d never really given a thought to my nearest neighbour’s arrangements. He probably invited a couple of hot blondes round for a sex marathon, I thought enviously, sharing the kind of Christmas with him that part of me so badly longed to.  
He sighed. "Isn’t there any way I could persuade you to put a few lights up for once?"  
I shook my head, beginning to get a real thrill from our verbal sparring. "Do you really think this street needs any more lights? Hell, there are so many up already I bet the whole place is visible from space come nightfall."  
Phil grinned at the image my words created, but he didn’t back down from his position. "Dan, what’s it going to take to get you to change your mind?"  
With a shrug, wondering just how far he was prepared to push this, I said, "I don’t know. Maybe you’ll just have to make me."  
"Oh, really?" He took a couple of paces forward, right into my personal space. So close to him, I could smell the unadorned, masculine aroma of a man who’d been putting in a good few hours of hard, manual work. My cock gave an involuntary twitch in reaction.  
"Yeah, really." This was all kind of foolish, facing off against Phil on my own driveway, but somehow I couldn’t help but feel the tension between us was more than just that of two men who were contemplating settling a meaningless argument in a physical fashion.  
"Okay, but I don’t think you quite know what you’re letting yourself in for …" With that, he launched himself at me, reaching for my shoulders and spinning me round, off balance. Until that moment, I hadn’t seriously believed Phil was spoiling for a fight, and from the strength of his grip I knew I’d underestimated him as any kind of opponent. I wasn’t in bad shape; I regularly went jogging and lifted a few weights, in an attempt to counteract the effects of my sedentary writing job, but Phil was up and down ladders all day, hefting bricks and building supplies, and he had the muscular strength to prove it. In any kind of fight, we both knew he had the better of me.  
I looked round to see if anyone was passing, in the moment before he kicked my legs from under me and I went sprawling to the ground. Maybe someone would come to my aid, or at least shame Phil into getting up and going about his business once more. But the street was deserted for once, not even Tyler from the house across the way out walking his pet Chihuahua, and as Phil half-dragged me round to the side of the house, I wondered what kind of beating I’d let myself in for.  
This is stupid, I wanted to protest. We’re friends – or at least I thought we were. So why are you intending to give me a licking, and all over a few lousy Christmas lights?  
But as Phil crouched over me, straddling my hips with his thick, jeans-clad thighs, I felt the hard length of his cock poking at my leg, and realised I’d been correct in my first assumption. This was about something very different than a fist fight.  
"God, you’re easy, Dan," Phil murmured, his breath warm against my ear. "I’ve wondered for so long what it would take to have you at my mercy. I just didn’t realise which button I needed to push."  
"But …" I looked up, meeting his brilliant brown eyed gaze. His fingers crept under the edge of my T-shirt, tracing slow, sensual circles on my skin. "I had no idea you were into guys."  
"Why do you think my marriage broke up?" He shook his head, but his fingers never stilled in their teasing progress up my chest. "I’ve always liked guys, just as much as I do girls. Gina knew that when we got married, and I hoped that one day she might be open to the idea of a threeway, but she wanted me to be faithful to her, and only her. Well, I managed that for as long as I could, but I always felt like I was shutting a part of myself off. A part that will always respond to a hot guy like you …"  
Never had I imagined that one day Phil would be calling me hot, or that when it happened, he’d have me pinned to the lawn at the side of his house, where I could breathe in his heady, male aroma, mixed with sweet overtones of freshly cut grass. Sure now that Phil wanted me in the same way as I wanted him, I felt my cock surge in my pants.  
His finger brushed over my nipple, making it spring up hard. He laughed at the strength of my response, then pinched the tight bud painfully between his finger and thumb.  
"But that’s enough about me," he said. "Don’t forget, I’ve still got to do whatever it takes to make you see the benefits of decorating your house for the holiday season …"  
As he spoke, he reached over to a box that stood just a few inches away from us, at the foot of the ladder still propped against the side of his house. With a wicked smile he pulled out a string of Christmas lights in rainbow shades. "These don’t work any more," he said. "I was going to throw them out, but now I see a better use for them."  
Too fast for me to react, he pinned both of my wrists together above my head, and started winding the cord of the lights around them, before tying it off. He hadn’t fastened the knot too tight, and I reckoned if I really wanted to, I might be able to wriggle free of my bonds, but I found I didn’t want to. As I lay on Phil’s lawn, tied up with Christmas lights and awaiting his next move, my cock was as hard as it had ever been. When he reached for the zipper of my pants and undid it, hauling them and my shorts down in the same movement, I made a half-hearted protest.  
"Hey, what if someone sees us?"  
"Relax, my truck’s blocking the view from the road …"  
And what if someone does see you? a little voice asked in the back of my mind. Doesn’t it just add to the thrill of being out in public, half-naked and about to let your horny neighbour do whatever he wants to you? In Berkshire, outdoor sex was reserved only for the high days of summer; there was no way I’d think of even venturing outside in December without dressing in a thick coat, scarf and gloves. Maybe Christmas in this part of the country had some compensating factors, after all. Phil wrapped his fingers around my shaft, holding it steady, then bobbed his head down, engulfing me in the slick furnace of his mouth. For a moment I couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, just butted the head of my dick up against his palate, blindly seeking release.  
He released his grip, and withdrew his mouth with a chuckle. "Hey, slow down. This isn’t a race, you know."  
I mumbled something about it having been a while, the words trailing off as he took an alternative tack, licking up and down my length with smooth, languorous strokes.  
"Oh, that’s good." I sighed, no longer trying to force the pace, just happy to let Phil use his mouth to give me pleasure.  
His tongue made its wet, slithery way along the seam between my balls, over my taint, and lapped for just the briefest moment at my arsehole. Trying my best not to lose my load, I thought of all the work I’d have to do when I got in the house just to meet the deadline on my article, never mind doing something about the quart of ice cream that was very likely melting in the trunk of my car right at this moment. It didn’t help; I couldn’t dream up anything boring and mundane enough to distract me from the sensations Phil's wickedly licking tongue was creating in my groin.  
He must have sensed how close I was, because abruptly he stopped, and rolled me over on to my front. Crouching over me, he worked to undo the knots in the string of lights binding my wrists.  
"You look so hot all tied up like that," he told me, "but I want you to be comfortable when I take your arse."  
A shiver went through me. I hadn’t seen Phil’s cock yet, only felt it nudging urgently at me when we’d been wrestling, but still I hungered to have it deep in my back door. Raising myself up on my knees and elbows, giving Phil an enticing view of my spit-slick arsehole and low-hanging balls, I looked over my shoulder to see him stripping off the jeans that were all he’d been wearing on his lower half. This obviously wasn’t the first time he’d been outdoors in the altogether; no tan lines marked the even caramel tone of his skin. I didn’t have too long to dwell on the gorgeous image of my neighbour sunbathing naked, because the next thing I knew he’d spit on his palm and used it to give his cock the lubrication it would need to aid its entry into my arse.  
"Why don’t you open yourself up for me?" Phil asked, giving his length a few lazy tugs. He didn’t really need anything more in the way of visual stimulation – his cock stood at full attention, shining with spit and precome – and I suspected he just got off on giving me orders. Orders I was only too happy to obey, reaching behind myself and easing a finger into my hole. While he watched, I worked it in and out, mimicking and anticipating what it would be like when his cock took its place.  
When he ordered me to stop, I did so with no little reluctance. But the truth was I needed to be fucked; I’d been on the verge since Phil had first pinned me to the ground, and now I was desperate for release.  
He got behind me, running a hand over the curve of my arse before giving it a resounding slap. "Man, you’ve got one hell of “a cute butt," he said. "Why did we never think of doing this before?"  
You might not have, I wanted to tell him, but his cockhead pressed hard against the lip of my hole, and then it was sliding inside, slowly but remorselessly filling my chute.  
"You like that, huh?" he asked, and all I could do in reply was nod, and grunt, and will him to push harder, deeper, and really give me the fucking I craved.  
No longer caring that we were out on Phil’s lawn in the middle of the afternoon, with the possibility that someone might spot us naked and rutting like beasts, I gave in to my basest needs. I thrust back, meeting every one of his strokes and then some, driving him on. Our sweating, heaving bodies slapped together, and our gasps and moans of pleasure grew ever louder and more frantic. My arse gripped tightly at Phil’s invading shaft, and his calloused workman’s hands raked my flanks as his thrusts speeded up. So close to coming, I grasped my cock and gave it a series of short, furious tugs. My head swam, nostrils full of the scents of sex, grass and Phil, and I cried out his name as the spunk rose from my balls and sprayed out on to the turf beneath me.  
Muttering words that made no sense, my name the only thing comprehensible among them, Phil filled my bowels with his seed. We collapsed together in a tangle of limbs as he slowly eased his cock out of my arse, sharing a moment of genuine affection.  
At last, Phil rolled to one side, normality reasserting itself. "So," he said with a grin, "has that persuaded you you need to get some lights up on your house?"  
The following day, I made a small concession to Phil’s demand. I went down to the local hardware store and bought a single string of white LED lights. I thought they’d look classy woven into the vine that surrounded my front door; my little tribute to the holiday season. And if that wasn’t enough in the way of decoration for Phil – well, I was sure he’d find some way of persuading me to make more of an effort.


End file.
